ataraxion | oo1

So— let me get this straight.

[ Veronica looks sweaty because, you know, apparently the Tranquility believes it's in the tropics in space. She makes a face, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. ]

My laptop, somehow, needs to get recharged. My camera seems to be busted, because it's either that, or everyone has seven days to live, and I'm trying this thing called optimism. I'm all out of crosswords, this is not the vacation that I signed up for, and apparently there is a big giant monster only some people can see that wants to kill us. [ That, and people here either seem to spend their time drunk as hell or being big mystical beings who do mystic things. (Veronica is not worried. Veronica is not worried because Veronica has accepted that this is, like, at least 81% real, and by that juncture the rest of it is just— you roll with the punches. You adapt. You try really, really hard to distract yourself by doing literally any job that falls into your lap.)

That's her. Veronica Mars, modern college girl on the go: the sequel.

In space. ]

I'm already helping Edgeworth, but if anyone wants me to do an odd job, point me in that direction. You'd be doing me a favor — it's better than just sitting around, trying to deal with the fact I really should have listened more to my AP Physics teacher when he talked about string theory. And, uh—

[ She pauses, her nose wrinkling. ]

I've never— This— whole inter-dimensional science fiction thing? Is new to me. So if there's some kind of, cultural, verbal address that would be more polite when it comes to people who aren't— humanesque, I'd appreciate it if someone could fill me in.

[ God, how is this real. Still hallucinating? Maybe. It's definitely hot enough to be. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You old coot.

[ One gets the impression that she'd sock him in the shoulder if this were a face to face conversation. Lightly, of course.

Hey, wait a minute. ]

Quirks. Like, leaves you a note made out of cut-out letters from a magazine, or?

[And he addresses that question like it's an actual question, and not a quip:]

No, ma'am; you'll find relatively few paper products here, regrettably. Rather, it tends to -

[And then he tries to figure out a discreet, eloquent, dignified way to say it, but finally just goes with:]

It sets up a great many death-traps for us.

[ She's about to say something like but there's toilet paper, right, but that seems incredibly unimportant given the word death-traps.

Something about her expression sobers, and pretty quickly. ]

Like the cannibals, or the monster none of us can see?

[A hesitation, because he's not entirely certain what she's referring to with the former - ]

Apologies; cannibals?

Caroline—

[ That was her name, right? Oh, wait, she said she heard about it. Wow, so this is some highschool no, seriously, I heard about the cannibals from a friend of a friend thing, isn't it. ]

—it's just something I've heard has happened, before.

She...

[A bit dubiously:]

Might be referring to the so-called "hellbeasts," as it were. Not an official name or classification, naturally. They're monstrous creatures, the product of experimentation by the prior crew of the ship, who will now attack mindlessly if encountered. They are not recognizably human any longer, but they still possess human DNA.

[And then he's quick to reassure:]

Their range is limited to the depths of the ship. I've a file on them, if you would like to read it.

[ ... ]

I honestly can't figure out if the answer to that is yes or no.

[ She looks kind of uncomfortable, in the way that she does whenever she's— you know, maybe a little closer to afraid than she'd like to be. ]

Yeah, sure. Are there a lot of— I don't know. What do we call them? Monsters?

[Honestly:]

Yes. But we've established a perimeter which they stay outside. So long as you do not go exploring - or, indeed, so long as you explore intelligently - you will be safe.

Right.

[ Deep breaths, Veronica. ]

That sounds... terrifying.

[ Definitely going to take Booker up on his offer, now. ]

[And Edgeworth's response is earnest:]

If at any point you feel uncomfortable, please simply call for me. I will come to your assistance at once, and I promise you, I can handle any threats that might come your way.

[ An inhale, an exhale, and whatever thankfulness Veronica feels — and she does feel it — is pushed aside, for the moment, in an effort to make up for the fact that fear is not something she enjoys. ]

Is this where you tell me you're from some kind of world where— you teleport and ninja-chop people to death?

No, certainly not. My home has none of that nonsense.

[And then he has to hesitate, because his home might not have that nonsense, and he might not have teleporting nonsense, but...he does have some telekinesis nonsense.]

But I do have a certain...set of skills.

[ Oh god, he's Liam Neeson, isn't he. ]

Skills has a pretty broad definition. I can play chopsticks with my toes, but I get the feeling that's not going to help save my life unless it's Simon Cowell with the gun.

[WHERE IS MY ~~CRAVAT~~ DAUGHTER]

Well, these are...combat-related skills. Explicitly so, and not in any sort of specialized context.

[A beat - ]

And that is quite an impressive skill, if you were not being sarcastic.

Combat-related and not in any sort of specialized context.

[ Dude. ]

Are you trying to out-lawyer me right now? Because I've worked with a public defender named Cliff, and he was more specific than you. And that's saying a lot.

I am simply able to fight, if it comes down to that. I hope that no more specifics ever need be given or witnessed.

[ Okay, and suddenly Veronica feels kind of bad. Let's backtrack for a minute, Mars. That usually works out. So what if Edgeworth is maybe a crazy Eldritch monster — he's been good otherwise, and he mostly seems obsessed with, like, order and paperwork, so at least he's a tidy Eldritch monster. ]

Sorry— [ The apology comes out as awkward as the set of her jaw. Not because she's bad at apologies (okay, she is, but not these ones), but because she's been doing that a lot lately. ] Thanks. If I can find a piano, I'll pay you back for it.

[That - Oh. That was unexpectedly polite; his faint annoyance and discomfort evaporates completely. He takes a moment to be surprised, then clears his throat and nods.]

Of course. Though no repayment is remotely necessary, Ms. Mars. It would be m genuine pleasure to be of assistance to you.

[And then he thinks about what he just said - ]

Though I do hope not in that...particular way.

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